


Run 'til You're Empty

by Winterling42



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Post Episode 79, Self-Reflection, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 11:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20929454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterling42/pseuds/Winterling42
Summary: After their disastrous trip to the Lotus Den, Beau has to get away from well-meaning reassurances.





	Run 'til You're Empty

The Krynn guards barely glanced at them, back in the Rosohna teleportation circle. 

“Well,” Caduceus said, maddeningly calm. “I think that went about as well as it could have.” 

“Yeah,” Jester said, like she was trying to convince herself more than any of the rest of them. “I mean, we’re all alive.” 

Beau slammed her staff so hard against the wall that it broke. Not quite in half, but along the fracture she’d put there before, in Zadash or Felderwin or in Asarius, maybe. Under the well. She didn’t really remember, only that this was the same damn stick she’d walked out of the Cobalt Soul with, all those months ago. It was well and truly broken now, a mess of shattered splinters all over the neatly glowing runes of the circle. 

“Hey!” one of the guards said, in Common. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Fuck them,” Beau tried very hard not to make it a shout--it came out of her throat in a low growl, all frustrated rage and despair. “_Fuck _ this.”

“This is...very far from how well it _ could have _ gone.” Caleb’s hands were shaking, but his voice was steady. In the moment, Beau hated him for it. Hated all of them for not being able to do this _ one thing_. This one, impossible thing. Hated herself most of all. 

“I can’t. Be here right now,” she said, staring down at the shards of her staff. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, aching to hit _ something_. _ Someone_. And whoever said the next reasonable, logical thing, was going to be it. 

So she took off running, feeling the cold energy of her qi numb her feet as she left the party behind. Later, she’d be able to plan with them, figure out what came next. Later, she could sit down and drink with Nott and sympathize with bad luck and flying bastards who were hard to catch. 

Right now her brain was a mess of anger and yelling, unused aggression and pointless recrimination. She was no good to them like this. Beau blazed through the palace, through the Firmaments. It was a good thing no one tried to stop her, because she didn’t remember that she’d given her sigil to Dairon until she passed the wall into the Coronas. The gently glowing entrance to the Shadowshire beckoned, but Beau passed it by after a moment’s pause. She suspected that the city went _ down _ at least as far as it went _ out, _but this was not the day to test that. Or...night. Whatever. 

The running helped, but she needed more challenge. Something that would make her _ focus_, and forget Yasha’s form twisting into nothing right in front of her. With a few jumps and a narrow alley, Beau gained the roof of a Corona tailor’s shop, and from there the city spread out underneath her. The roofs got closer and closer together the further from the palace she got, and the green glass-lights were few and far between. Beau pulled her goggles up from around her neck, settled them over her eyes without slowing. Jump, there. Roll because the next roof was a story shorter. Sideways off that chimney to avoid a too-wide avenue below. 

She couldn’t have said where the Hells she was, but she knew the roofs beneath her boots. Goggle darkvision painted the city in flat shades of red. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, feel the stinging pain of cool Rosohna air in her throat. The world narrowed to the shingles under her feet and the next ten steps. Nothing else mattered, not failing or world-ending shit or friends who turned to look at her with dead eyes and a greatsword. None of that mattered, because if she didn’t pay attention _ now _ she was going to fall and break a leg, or catch the attention of some very unfortunate guards. 

Eventually, she had to stop. She’d turned inwards whenever she got too close to the city walls and the guards atop them, so she was probably halfway around the city by now. The place under her ribs where Beau could feel her qi was empty, used up. She was breathing hard now, and her feet ached from the uneven ground she’d been using as track. Her brain was clear, no longer empty but able to remember without screaming. Obann pulling the heart from the tree, Yasha’s sword biting deep into her shoulder. The Laughing Hand leaping towards them through the trees. 

There was no denying it--they’d fucked up real good on this one. No heart, no skull. No Yasha. And they needed to figure out how in the Hells they were gonna make it right. 

To do that, she was gonna have to go home. Make more plans that wouldn’t work. Reassure Jester, commiserate with Caleb. Smile at Fjord in a way that meant she was ready to fight again. Bump fists with Nott, in case she remembered not to drink. And she’d have to at least put up with Caduceus’ crazy optimism, if she couldn’t share it. 

Slowly, Beau climbed down onto the street, pulling her hood up so she didn’t stand out _ quite _ so much. She made her way back in towards the Xhorhaus, cracking her knuckles and turning her mind outward, towards the tangled mess they’d made.


End file.
